Fair as Snow
by Hams
Summary: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, X-men First Class edition. Erik/Charles.
1. Chapter 1

"Mirror mirror, on the wall," Sebastian murmurs with an almost subdued glee, running long fingers across his own reflection, framed in gilded wood, carved intricate and sharp as the angles of his own face. He regards the mirror with casual hostility, nose turned up just so. "Who," he prompts, a beginning of a smile already forming on his lips, "Who is the fairest one of all?"

"Not you, my lord," The mirror chants, a clipped voice, though however frantically apologetic-

Sebastian's nascent smile is nearly fully a visceral sneer before the mirror goes on, "Famed, though thy beauty is, but hold- a lovely scholar, I see in the midst. Kindness in his wisdom, grace, beauty in his gentle face. Alas he is more fair than thee."

Sebastian's reflection shimmers like smears of light, livid.

"Reveal his name," Sebastian hisses, eyes hard and fast on the silver plane. His fists furl tight against themselves.

The image in the mirror swirls, gently at first; then furious like a silver storm. The form of a young man takes shape, dressed in light summer clothes, reading a book by the hearth. He leans his head on his hand, his lashes dipping as his eyes move across the page. He's beautiful; Sebastian's eyes trace over the round of his lips and the curve of his face.

"Lips red as the rose," the mirror narrates, "Skin white as snow."

He's seen this boy before. Recognition settles into Sebastian, caught in the set of his jaw, the set of his shoulders. He watches, as entranced as enraged, as the young man looks up from his novel, still nursing his head, and peers through the cottage window deep in thought. His eyes are sky-clear and it makes Sebastian's stomach turn in disgust.

"Enough!" he snaps, turning away from the mirror and into himself. He clutches at his cloak as his mind begins to turn."We'll see what we can do about that," he says as an idea comes to him, spinning in his mind like a dusty diamond.

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><p>Just a beginning. Please review.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of sulfur stings the inside of Erik's nose before his eyes begin to adjust to the darkness of the room. Rough, hot hands disappear from his shoulders in a puff of smoke thick and ruddy like clay dust. Erik's breathing sounds harsh in his own ears but doesn't mask the sound of someone else's even breath, waiting patiently for him.

Erik straightens, his hands going to the blade in his belt.

"My boy," Shaw says fondly, his voice booming and vibrating off the walls, crawling up the skin of Erik's forearm with prickling familiarity. Erik's throat is cotton and his hand stills on the hilt.

"_Shaw._" Erik's mouth is a furious line on his face as he regards _him_. A father who was not a father. A devil of a man who left after his mother passed as if he hadn't inserted himself, like a stuck thorn, into the bloom of Erik's life.

Shaw peers at himself in a mirror hung low on the nearest wall. He adjusts a bit of hair and Erik's lip curls up in disgust. More than obsessed with his reflection, Shaw had tried to shape Erik after his own image, too - into something more monster than man. Shaw's gaze doesn't leave his own face when he speaks. "Tell me, are you still a mercenary, Erik?"

"Huntsman," Erik corrects him acridly.

Shaw turns to him, looking severely disappointed. "All our hard work, gone to waste-"

"I've already killed them all," Erik cuts in, "The soldiers."

"Yes, yes - the pawns, but not the king," Shaw dismisses him.

"I've no interest in chess."

"Your poor mother." Shaw moves away from the far wall and closer to Erik. After a moment's consideration, he circles Erik, twisting on the heel of his boot as Erik's gaze follows him wearily. "You could have saved her, you know," Shaw sighs, "Ah, he who hesitates," he laments, smiling sympathetically at Erik without warmth. "The Xavier reign is a rather harsh one against our kind."

Since the days following his disappearance after the Purge, Erik had only heard word of Shaw through stories of his fabled beauty, of his noble grace. Looking upon him now, Erik sees only an ugliness, wretched and inglorious, that grows with each passing second. He feels only the dull rage throbbing in his fingertips, returning to him, and the soft promise of metal opportunity around him.

"I had hoped the next time I'd see you, you'd be King," Shaw tuts.

"I told you the next time I'd see you, I'd kill you," Erik says bluntly, what little control he has over his temper shucked in an instant. He whisks up a fireplace rod with a brisk tug of his fingers and hurls it towards Shaw's skull.

Unsurprised, Shaw redirects it with a careless wave of his hand. It clatters noisily on the ground and he is at Erik's throat easily, fingers pressing into the slight stubble there. Pushing rather than squeezing, as if feeling around for some pulse of fear. There is none there, and Erik wraps his hand around Shaw's to pry it off with his jaw clenched tight.

"Erik, Erik, Erik..." Shaw sighs.

"Why have you brought me here?" Erik's Adam's apple presses against Shaw's fingers with each word.

Shaw ignores him. "Did you know our King Xavier, when he hunts, rents a small cottage at the foot of the forest?" Shaw says. Erik's mind spins; it is a place he hunts often. Shaw continues, "Revenge, my dear boy. You're wasting your time with the mundane instead of seizing greatness. If I were you-"

"I'm not you. I'm nothing like you," Erik's words are stones in water.

"No, you are not," Shaw agrees readily, peering down his nose at Erik with thinly veiled disdain. "_I've_ never been a coward."

Erik turns his head roughly out of Shaw's grip and can suddenly, over Shaw's shoulder, make out a soft glow coming from the mirror hanging on the wall.

"Do you want to see what I see?" Shaw nearly purrs.

He doesn't wait for an answer.

Erik's mouth falls open as the image in the glass begins to shift and change, spots of light flung like weak sunbeams trembling like warm breath in cold air.

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><p>Erik shifts the killed doe higher up on his shoulders, the soft fur of its belly rubbing along the back of his neck already slick with sweat. Venison fetches a higher price than goose, Erik knows, but he hasn't moved from the small clearing in the woods though the sun is setting.<p>

Smoke curls up from a brick chimney from the only cottage in sight, and Erik cannot force himself to leave. He draws nearer instead, pausing outside the house until his back aches and the heat and the sound of flies buzzing in his ears is enough to distract him from himself. With a grunt, he shrugs the deer (and whatever indecision remains) off and onto the ground.

He walks briskly towards the wooden door-pushes it slightly to find it unlocked.

"Come in," a voice calls politely.

Erik starts in the doorway; he had been certain he made no noise. He presses his back flat against the wall and after several heart beats, peers inside more carefully; there's only a single man present on a settee. Laying supine, he reads a book held up lazily with one hand, the other tucked behind his head. Erik cannot believe his luck- no guards?

"I'm sorry," the man says, his face still turned away from Erik. He turns the page, the crisp sound loud in the still air. "I certainly didn't mean to startle you, my name is-"

Erik is already through the door and upon him. They tumble together off balance with a shout from the man below him as Erik pushes him to the floor, knocking the air out of him in the process. The book falls and skids under the table, pages sweeping the ground.

"I know who you are," Erik snaps curtly, eyes tracing Xavier's body for sign of a weapon. There is none. He straddles Xavier tightly with thighs on either side of his body, squeezing them harder when Xavier tries to sit up. Erik pushes him back down with a forceful hand.

"You know me?" Xavier asks, eyes surprised but not afraid. "Have we met before?" His chest rises quickly and deeply under Erik's palms, his tongue coming out to lick at his lips as his eyes search Erik's as if trying to remember where.

Erik's brow creases in bewilderment at that. And his stomach turns as he registers the entirety of Xavier's face. He's lovely as he was in Shaw's mirror. Red, red lips and unmarked skin. What Xavier must know of _hardship_. How Erik would love to mark that skin for him, to tear this man down from the inside out as he had Erik's childhood. More than that, he wants the chance to see something beautiful burn. A part of him is mortified that the thought is his own. "Where are your guards?" Erik spits, furious with himself and the man beneath him.

Xavier looks confused now. "Guards?"

"Stop playing coy," Erik demands. He commands the knife from his pocket in a swift movement. It hovers close.

Xavier's eyes flash bright. "You're a mutant!"

"Yes," Erik's mouth quirks up though there is no humor in his voice. "Does it disgust you?"

"Hardly-"

"Does it disgust you to have me touch you?" Erik wipes his hand across Xavier's face, rough and careless. He smears dampness from Xavier's mouth where his palm rubs over those lips. Xavier just stares back, a pained expression on his face. "You'd have me killed as soon as look at me, wouldn't you?"

Xavier's face falls as something like realization settles in. "Never! That's-"

Erik backhands him, cutting the lie short. Xavier's head snaps to the side and when he turns towards Erik again, his cheek is reddened but his eyes are sharp under drawn brows. Erik tears his eyes away, feeling the anger and anguish rise up within him, a heat years kindled in his chest finally roaring and burning at his throat. "Is there a list of names?" he asks, voice mocking. "Is a city not fit for your _royal highness_ until you've stolen parents from a child whose first memory will be of fear?" He rips the collar of Xavier's tunic, baring his stark neck to the clavicle. Even above the sound of tearing cloth, he can hear Xavier scrambling for words. Erik covers Xavier's mouth with his palm, eyes trained on the man's pulsepoint beating wildly under his hand as if his heart was in his throat. Erik wraps his fist around it almost automatically, each finger remembering too easily what it is like to drain the light from someones' eyes. Xavier's are far too bright with something he cannot name. It only sets Erik's nerves on fire. "And to have that child believe they were bourne of human _error_- " The knife still hovers midair. It trembles with such anger that it's timbre is almost real. Erik lets go of Xavier's mouth to grasp the knife with his hand.

"_Christ,_" Xavier groans. He squirms stubbornly beneath Erik and manages to get one arm out and hand pressed to the side of his head, wincing with the effort. "Listen-"

"I'm done talking," Erik hisses.

"Erik, stop!" Xavier shouts.

Erik pauses at his name. Freezes. _How did you know my name?_ he wants to say. But he cannot, his voice won't work. Nor his arms. Nor his- cold panic begins to seep from his gut, he cannot move at all and he tries and tries-

_Calm your mind, Erik._ The voice is Xavier's, but-

Xavier pries Erik's hands off and pushes himself out form under him with a jagged breath. _For God's sake,_ his voice echoes in Erik's head. How? Erik's heart thrums loudly in his ear as he watches Xavier pick up his fallen book and place it on the nearest table. Then, watches in horror, as Xavier presses his fingers to his temple once more and Erik is suddenly walking over to the settee, sitting straight-backed and obedient as a school boy. His brain barely registers the sensation of the cushions beneath him, though they sink under his weight.

Xavier strides over and squats down near him, between his legs, to put a comforting hand on Erik's knee. It's a strange gesture- Xavier's shirt is tattered about his neck and his hair is mussed, but his mouth is a serious line on his face as he looks up into Erik's.

Xavier stares for a good while, his tongue resting in his cheek as he seems to be thinking. He glances down once before bringing his eyes back up to Erik's and they are violently blue.

"I am a telepath, Erik. That is how I know your thoughts and were sending mine to you. Though I do try to keep out unless under extreme circumstance." Erik's paroxysm of surprise and outrage must've registered because he goes on sternly, "I am a mutant, yes. I am not a hypocrite, no. My family name is Xavier but my name is Charles. You must be after my brother, Cain. He's made a mess of things as King, I'm afraid. I was shoved out of that position rather roughly years ago. I've-"

The sound of a shrill whistle echoes in the woods and Charles' eyes become lost for a moment. He blinks and they are suddenly clear as day. "Ah," he says with a warm smile, "My students will be home, soon. All seven of them."

Erik can hardly hear the sound of voices rising in the distance.

"Would you like to hear the rest over supper?"

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><p>Please review!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Erik does nothing but exist, suspended. Charles rises to his feet, pushing a distracted hand through his hair as he excuses himself into the small kitchen in the adjoining room. Erik tries to ignore the uneasiness rising along his neck, pressing at the base of his skull. He can still feel Charles' hand on his knee, can feel the echo of his touch ripple through his numb body and upwards still, lapping slow at his mind like warm water in a bath.

"As you might have guessed," Charles calls to Erik, the sharp clink of metal sounding from within, "Cain does not have a mutant power." He reappears in the doorway with several sets of utensils, eyes resting wearily on Erik's face. "He was quite frightened of me growing up. Though I can't see why, the most I would do with it was to see whether he fancied another cup of tea or when to let Mother alone." Charles' mouth tightens, dimpling just below his lip. "Father died. Then Mother died. My telepathy is one thing, but Cain has a helmet- a metal helmet that somehow blocks me out. Soon after he acquired it, he threw me out of the kingdom and, well-" He gestures about the cottage with a teaspoon, "Here I am." He looks at Erik expectantly. Then frowns. "You can speak now. I've let go of your body some time ago."

Erik breathes in sharply, as if only in control of his body now that Charles has said it aloud. His nerves jolt with conscious sensation and he jerks up so quickly he nearly falls, knees threatening to give as if he'd been out to sea.

Charles takes a concerned step towards him and Erik raises his hand to stop him there. He shakes his head roughly, his mind positively swimming- thoughts, nearly nascent, tumbling from his mouth. "How did-Why haven't you stopped him? Anything?" Erik manages, his voice rough and raw. _Shaw must have known._His throat burns like salt water.

Charles' expression clouds, dark with anger. "I've tried, don't you think I have?" he says harshly. "I can't access his mind through the blasted helmet. I can't even touch the surface." His face is drawn, parted mouth twisted into an unhappy shape. His chest heaves beneath his shirt and Erik's eyes catch the motion. Charles must notice, the way the shadow across his face flickers, then fades as he presses his lips together and forces his breathing to slow. He swallows, keeping his eyes trained on Erik's. "Besides, my students need me."

"And who are your students?" Erik asks cautiously. His eyes dart to the door when the whistling pick up again, closer this time, echoing between the trees.

Charles smiles wryly. "Survivors, Erik. Just like you."

Erik feels more than sees the metal knob turn before the door bursts open with a chill gust of Autumn air. A boy with curly red hair is whistling -loud and resonant-and the glasses on the table begin to shake and vibrate with the tune. The boy raises his brows at Charles and hits some higher notes. The glasses tremble with such an organic thrum that the hollow sound fills the room.

"Easy now, Sean," Charles warns though his eyes are bright with mirth. The boy grins, but stops anyway. The glasses still, each rim a perfect circle.

Sean's expression goes blank as he notices Erik for the first time. "Who's this guy?" he asks.

"A friend," Charles answers quickly, firmly, before Erik can. Erik's mouth is already open but he just looks at Charles incredulously.

Sean shrugs, satisfied with the explanation, and trudges the rest of the way in. He is followed by a blonde girl, curvy with a pretty face. A dark-skinned boy, thin and tall...a blond boy with a hostile expression. Seven children trail in noisily, one after another, all taking their seats at the table.

Above the din of "What's for dinner tonight?" "I'm so tired." "Scoot over, bozo," Charles whispers their names to Erik who is not quite sure, to be honest with himself, why he's still here- except that he has never met another mutant besides Shaw, let alone an entire housefull.

"Raven, Armando, Alex, Angel..." Charles whispers, "Emma," to Erik and another blonde girl, this one with cold eyes, stares straight at him. Through him.

Erik can feel a tendril of frost curling at his nape before an explosion erupts at the other side of the table.

"Alex, you're so fucking clumsy!" Raven shouts, slamming both hands down on the table, and the plates clatter. "You almost singed off my eyebrows, jack ass." Her skin shifts from peach to blue and back again. Erik's never seen anything like it and watches in fascination as the scales rise on her forearm in anger. It's exquisite.

Alex just grins slightly to himself and watches her fume. "If anyone's clumsy, it's Bigfoot over here. Isn't that right, Hank?" Alex slaps a hand to another boy's back, nearly knocking his spectacles loose.

Hank grimaces, then frowns. "I'm still adjusting to running without shoes, it takes some time to-"

"Guys, we have company." Armando says. Everyone quiets down and stares, some having to turn in their chairs to see Erik properly. A few eyes dart to Charles' tattered shirt and Erik's face heats.

"This is Erik," Charles announces, leaning into him and flashing him an encouraging smile and the words _Be Nice_, bright as fireworks behind his eyes. "He'll be joining us for supper."

"Is he a mutant, too?"

"Where did he come from?"

"I thought we were the only ones left."

The last sentence echoes the loudest in Erik's ears as Charles excuses them both for just a moment, and leads him outside. He shuts the door behind them, muffling the rest of the excitement that rises in their wake.

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><p>It is dark outside, now. The sky is dusty with dusk and speckled with stars, peppered in the arc of navy sky. Though the North Star is exactly where it should be, Erik feels lost for the first time.<p>

"I thought I was alone," Erik murmurs and does not miss the way his words are drowned, made almost insignificant, by the sound of crickets chirping together.

"Not anymore," Charles says and his voice swells with such earnestness, with such luxury of certainty that it irritates Erik.

"What exactly are you doing with these children?" Erik asks curtly. Where had he been at this age? What had he been doing? "You've saved them? Hiding them away in your little safehouse?"

"This is a school." Charles frowns, the soft smile slipping off his face. "We're not hiding, Erik. Never that."

"What can you teach them?"

"How to control their powers."

Erik's laugh is dry. "I've heard that one before." His memories flash to Shaw. His smile and his cruelties, his hands and tools on Erik's flesh. He is overcome with a wave of nausea so strong he imagines Charles must feel it too, though the other man doesn't flinch at all. Instead, he watches Erik intently, perhaps reading his face instead of his mind for answer. "I was raised by a man who said the same things," Erik says. It is impossible to keep the bitterness from seeping through so he doesn't try.

Charles shakes his head, "I teach them to believe in themselves and what they can do. I want them to understand their gifts. To understand peace and want it, too."

"What you should be doing is teaching them to fight," Erik corrects him. He brightens and clasps a hand on Charles' shoulder with the realization. "We can fight. We can take Cain down, Charles, if you'd only-"

"Erik, they're children," Charles interrupts.

"Younger children are made into Cain's soldiers," Erik counters, "If they are old enough to know death, they are old enough to know war. If they want a fight, Charles, we will give it to them."

"You're wrong." Charles clips with a shake of his head. "You cannot find peace through war, Erik, you of all people should know that."

"Coward." The word leaves Erik's mouth before it registers.

"No, Erik. You're the coward," Charles says, trying and failing to keep the anger out of his voice.

Erik's temper shoots up like a flare. "And what am I afraid of?"

Charles doesn't back down. "You're afraid that even after all this time, you're just like him."

Erik's heart stops cold. He reaches for Charles, grasping him by the arm hard enough to hurt. "And you, _my friend,_are a liar," he hisses, "I thought you said you stay out. You've read my mind."

"I didn't," Charles returns icily, though his breath is warm on Erik's face. "You were thinking it yourself over and over again with your hands around my neck, I could barely hear a word you were saying over your conscience."

Erik lets go in a jerked movement, speechless.

Charles raises his arm and places his hand on Erik's chest, the heel of his palm resting between his ribs. "Erik, you are more than just the weapon you think you were made to be." His words are said with such hostile earnestness, his voice trembles with it. "I understand your pain and anguish. But what you are asking of me to do with these students is little different than what he has done to you." His eyes are bright, even in the night. The corners of his mouth twist and it might be a smile. "Be a better man," he says. _Than him? Than that?_

Erik is at a loss and after a moment, Charles turns back toward the house with a crunch of soil beneath his feet. Erik doesn't follow.

He'd never noticed he was alone until he wasn't anymore.

His doe lies where he's left it. It is heavy on his shoulders when he lifts it once more.

He follows the path he's memorized, deciding to follow his internal magnetic compass instead of the constellation of stars.

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><p>Please review.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Sorry for the incredibly long delay! I'm back!

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><p>The creases of Erik's hunting gloves are still caked with blood when he thrusts the wooden box into Shaw's open hands, forcibly and without explanation. Sweat and dirt from the day before is still beaded thick on his brow but he hasn't been able to lift the memory of Charles from his mind long enough to wash it away.<p>

Shaw looks at Erik strangely under hooded eyes before turning his attention to the box before him. He props open the lid with a single, jeweled finger. "Xavier's heart?" he demands, almost incredulously.

Erik gives a curt nod. The smog of sulfur won't clear from this small, stone room, and it makes his head throb when he moves it. He wonders if it is the same place he was brought the time before this. It makes him uneasy, not to know. "I threw the body into the river after," he lies.

"Hm." Shaw peers down into the box at the doe's heart inside for a long moment. His lip begins to curl up and Erik thinks- _perhaps he knows-_ but then Shaw turns his nose at the smell, waving it away. "Congratulations, boy," his voice is sincerely unconcerned. "You've done a great service to our kind. You may go, now."

He turns his back on Erik and a hot lick of acrid air behind him makes the red transporter's presence clear enough.

"Wait-" Erik yells after Shaw, his voice scattering off the slab walls like marbles.

Shaw stops in his motion, black robes swirling around his legs. He turns his head over his shoulder with an exasperated expression. "What?" he asks harshly. His eyes go impatiently from the transporter to Erik and back.

"When I got there, Xavier was expecting me," Erik says flatly.

Shaw rubs his thumb along the side of mouth before answering. "What would make you think that."

"He knew my name." Erik doesn't enjoy playing games and this is no exception. His face is slack. "Now, how could he have known that?"

Shaw turns to face him entirely now, body held furiously rigid under velvet cloth. He looms in close and there is the smell of something rotted on his breath. "Well you made quite a name for yourself, Erik," Shaw says quietly. "After the-ah, theatrical-display of yours at the untimely death of your mother."

Erik's face twitches.

"Dangerous mutants like you were the reason the Purge was first declared." Shaw pulls back and flashes a beacon of a smile, clasping his hand on Erik's shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about it any further, boy, what's done is done. Revenge is yours. It feels good, no? This is what you wanted."

_This is what you wanted._ Erik pries his heavy hand off his shoulder, using it to shove Shaw back by the forearm. "And now, what? What happens, will you take the throne?" Erik snaps.

The light in Shaw's face goes out like a blown candle and he sneers at Erik. "Now," he says harshly, "Now, we take what was meant to be ours."

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><p>Erik steadies his bow and his breath; the deer lowers her head again to the forest floor, grazing. Erik pulls back his arrow a feather's length-<p>

And a loud rustling in the distance alert the both of them; Erik jerks his head towards the noise but sees nothing. He turns back to the deer only to find her disappeared into the brush. He rises from his knee, irritated. He moves to replace the bow to his quiver when the rustling picks up again, and now the sound of broken branches. Erik remains unearthly still. Leaves crackle under footfall at increasing step and Erik thinks _Shaw_-

"Raven, where have you gone?" comes a completely exasperated voice.

Charles?

"No cheating!" Raven's voice caws from somewhere up in the trees. Erik looks up in surprise but cannot make out anything besides the canopy of green, shifting in the wind. He spins around with splotches of sun in his eyes but can make out nothing but leaf and bark.

"I'm not projecting at all!" Charles shouts, still far from the clearing. "I really can't find you."

There is a flapping of wings and a black bird dips from one branch of a large oak to another.

"How is this training for me, exactly?" Charles adds, slightly huffing. He pushes his way through skinny saplings.

"What will you do when you can't read Cain's mind?" Raven chirps. The bird hops to a lower branch and then another, suddenly rolling black feathers into blue scales, like ripples in sooty water.

"I don't know, honestly," Charles admits and Erik can finally see Charles making his way towards him. Towards Raven, anyway. Erik takes a step further back into the foliage. "I suppose I'm useless, really."

Raven is fully blue now, and perches on a thick limb at the base, letting her legs dangle off each side. Erik can't quite make out her expression but he can see Charles cross his arms and gaze at her steadily.

"Aw, you're not useless," Raven's voice comes out more gentle than Erik had imagined. "Leave it to us to get the helmet off and you can take care of the rest."

"Easier said than done," Charles sighs. "The last time we-"

_I thought he didn't want to fight_, Erik thinks.

Charles stills and looks over his shoulder directly at Erik. Erik doesn't move; he's almost certain Charles can't actually see him through the leaves and shadows.

"And that's why we keep training!" Raven says stubbornly, jumping to the ground gracefully. Her skin flickers into peach. "To kick some royal butt!"

"Mm," Charles murmurs, drawing his attention back to her. "Forgive me for not being as enthusiastic."

She laughs and hugs him close and, after a while, he wraps his arms around her, too.

_Enjoying the view, Erik?_ Charles' voice filters into his head.

Erik snorts before pushing off back into the woods.

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><p>Erik lasts a mere two hours in his home, pacing, before turning heel right back to the little cottage that contains all he knows anymore.<p>

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><p>When Charles unlatches the wooden door, he looks genuinely pleased. It unnerves Erik, to be received so warmly. Even more so to find that he's grateful for the warmth.<p>

"Erik," Charles says, and moves back to allow him passage inside the cottage.

Erik brushes past him and if there is a strange feeling of an icy finger pressing at the base of his neck, it's gone as soon as it comes.

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><p>"What brings you here, my friend?" Charles asks him, once they're seated in his bedroom. He insisted the sitting room would be too loud and would rouse the children. Erik followed him wordlessly down the short path into this smaller room, his head still swirling around the fact that there even are children left to wake.<p>

The bed is not soft; it must be all hay, and Erik spares a thought to what it must be like for a prince to have to live like this. He turns down Charles' offer of wine (though it seems he's finished most of the bottle himself, anyway). He supposes some luxuries cannot be without.

"Do you know Sebastian Shaw?" Erik prompts.

Charles' brow furrows before he shakes his head, "No, I'm sorry."

Erik can't hide his disappointment; he swallows angrily around it.

"Who is that man?" Charles asks, picking up his glass. He's frowning again, one leg crossed over the knee of the other, and Erik is both irritated and relieved that he clearly isn't reading his mind to find out.

"My step father."

"Ah," Charles says with the kind of illuminated satisfaction from fitting a puzzle together. "Ah. I see."

Though Erik doesn't know how much Charles does see, how much he could know from that first time he touched his mind. Everything? He knows enough, Erik supposes._ Yet you won't help me fight a war that is yours, too._

He studies Charles' face, bright bright eyes attentive and not the least bit dangerous. His mouth cups the bottom of his glass easily as if drunk to a toast and not to talk of war. He must know why Erik's here; asking is a formality.

"You can say it out aloud if you'd like my opinion," Charles says, twisting the cork back into the neck of the bottle. "Since you seem to have sought me out for some reason or another. Though I'll have you know this is the first time a man's been in my bed just to talk." He laughs and looks up pointedly.

Erik is caught off guard, the low throb of interest that it evokes masked by amusement. "Someone so powerful should not be so careless about who he invites to bed." Erik takes the glass from Charles' hand and puts it on the night table. "I nearly killed you the first time you let me in."

"Not a chance," Charles' mouth is a rounded smirk. "Though I do believe I've got an idea of how rough you are in getting your way."

Erik lets out a low laugh under his breath and shakes his head. "I can be a gentleman by turns," he says.

"No, thank you," Charles quips goodnaturedly. His face grows serious and the softness is gone now. "I know it's not quite pillow talk but I am interested to know what your arrival has to do with my students and my brother. I won't ask again."

Erik's eyes snap up from Charles' mouth to his eyes. "Shaw sent me to kill you," he says bluntly. "He knew you weren't Cain, he must have known. Then, why?"

Charles' looks at him curiously. Carefully, like he is turning things about in his mind like pieces of glass. "The Apple Tree," he says quietly.

"What-"

A shriek from down the corridor makes the hair on Erik's neck stand and Charles is on his feet as soon as he is.

"Emma-" Charles shouts, his whole hand smashed to the side of his head as he bolts out the door with Erik close behind.

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><p>AN Please review!


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